


Favourite Moment

by xenous



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominatrix, Face Slapping, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Riding Crops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 11:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17466752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenous/pseuds/xenous
Summary: Howard sets up Gary and Mark without either of them knowing.





	Favourite Moment

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching [this interview](https://youtu.be/W8KWELGgT64?t=4m38s) where Gary jokingly mentions an S&M dungeon being his favourite moment in the band and my awful mind just ran with that. ~~I'm sorry!~~  
>  This is set some time after they got back together, though, in a world where their partners do not exist.

“God, I need to get laid.”

Howard looked up from his remaining three shots to his band mate. “Amen to that, man.” he sighed wearily.

“No, I mean it, How.” Gary said, chin sinking down to meet his crossed arms on the bar. “If it wasn’t so fucking... News of the World, I’d go out and grab the first person who looks at me on the street.” Howard raised his eyebrows, saying nothing.

“Guess I’m just sick of my own goddamn hand.” Gary murmured. Howard leaned on his hand, tracing his fingers through the rings of beer on the bar, thinking.

“You know...” he said eventually, voice low and confidential as he leaned closer to Gary. “I could arrange for someone to come over and... y’know... take care of you.”

Gary laughed a little, knocking back a shot before answering. “No offence, mate, but I don’t exactly trust your connections in that area.”

“No no no! It’d be totally legit, I swear!” Howard protested.

Gary gave him a withering look. “Right.”

“Seriously!” Howard exclaimed. “No money involved. You’d be doing each other a service, that’s all.”

“Well, shit, you’re such a romantic.” Gary muttered, looking away. “Service...”

“I thought you said you wanted to get laid?” Howard pointed out. “That doesn't usually mean you want romance.”

There was a pause.

“Touché.” Gary conceded. Howard swivelled around on his stool, facing Gary directly and placing his hands on his thighs.

“Alright!” he said decisively, grinning. “First, I need to know how freaky you’re willing to get, Gaz.”

“Freaky?!” Gary’s eyebrows nearly disappeared off his forehead before a telling blush blossomed on his cheeks. “God, do you have to?”

Howard nodded, grin becoming positively shit-eating. “Uh huh. I need details. I mean, what are you into? What gets you going?” Gary looked mortified, hissing in protest. Howard held up his hands.

“Purely for research, man, honestly. See, I gotta pass all this shit on, so they don’t get too freaky for you.” he smirked slyly. “Or…so they can get more freaky for you.”

By now, Gary was definitely regretting ever starting this conversation - especially with, of all people, Howard. Why the hell did he decide to open up to perv-master Howard about this? Why not Mark, or Jason, or anyone who wouldn’t bring up the idea of anything 'freaky'. Jason would treat his problem with respect, and really try to find a sensible solution to it.

He wouldn’t conjure up images of... ugh...

But no. For once, he hadn’t thought before opening his mouth and now he was paying the price. Blush still colouring his cheeks, Gary shook his head violently.

“No, no animals or dead people or whatever the hell 'freaky' is supposed to mean” he paused and huffed. “Look, as long as it isn’t gross and doesn’t involve the wrong bodily fluids, I’m okay with it. Anything but those things.” The smile dropped from Howard’s face, and he dipped his head, looking up at Gary, for the first time actually looking serious about the whole thing.

“Anything?” he asked. “Absolutely anything except those things?” Gary looked back at him with wary unease. What exactly would he be letting himself in for if he said yes? What could Howard cook up for him? And, probably most importantly, were there any freaky sexual practices that he wasn’t aware of and thus couldn’t cross off the list?

Howard spoke again. “If you don’t mean anything, it’s gonna affect who I pick for you.” he leaned back, picking up another shot and swirling it gently around in the glass. He spoke in a sing-song voice. “And I don’t think you’ll have as much fu-un!” Gary continued to teeter on the edge of decision, knocking back his second shot as his mind raced through all of the weird kinks he knew of. Then Howard quietly recited a little rhyme as he traced a finger around the rim of his shot glass.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me…” Gary looked at him with mild incredulity, watching the other man look down into his miniature glass, a ghost of that irrepressible smile on his face.

Then he decided.

He swallowed.

“Well…gotta try everything once, haven’t you?” Howard looked up sharply, a second passing before the smile bloomed on his face.

“Really?” he asked, more than a touch of amusement in his tone.

“Yeah.”

“Absolutely anything but those things you mentioned before?”

“Fuck, Howard, yes!” Gary exclaimed. “You spent the last ten minutes trying to talk me into it, and now you won’t take yes for an answer!”

“Okay, okay, just wanted to be sure. Shake on it, you lucky boy.”

Despite the dubiousness of the ‘lucky boy’ comment, Gary clasped Howard’s hand, both of them drinking their last shot with their free hands.

If it wasn’t so cliché, Gary would wonder what’s the worst that could happen...

  


Later that night, almost the minute he arrived home, Howard was already on the phone making the call to save Gary’s mojo. He reclined on his couch, one hand behind his head, the other holding the receiver to his ear. God, this was going to be awesome. He had a vague hope that there would somehow be cameras wherever Gary and his new friend ended up but he doubted it. Still, a guy could dream.

Four rings later, and someone picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe.” Howard greeted, voice silky smooth. “I found you a boy toy...”

  


A mere two nights later...

  


“Okay, I've got a few ground rules to go through with you first.”

Gary looked up from picking nervously at his nails to his designated driver. “Ground rules?” he echoed worriedly. Howard nodded, for a change looking pretty serious. He raised a hand and began counting off.

“One: don’t speak until you’re spoken to. Two: don’t make eye contact until you’re told to. Three: don’t bitch and moan, she won’t like it. Four, and probably most important: always, always refer to her as ‘Mistress’ and nothing else.” Gary looked at him, mind slowly computing. Then his eyes widened and he hissed in outrage.

“You got me a dominatrix?!”

“Kinda.” Howard replied coyly.

Gary contemplated asking what Howard meant by ‘kinda’, but decided it was probably better he didn’t know. He glared at him in minor irritation for a few moments, before sitting back in his car seat, apprehensively eyeing the small building before them. He shrunk down a little, eyes flicking around for any sign of paparazzi, extremely worried that they were too exposed here. A voice inside him whined, ever the pessimist, that it was going to be lousy and trying to convince him to not bother and run while he still can.

Howard’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “You got two minutes to get yourself together before your appointment. You’ll get an hour. And remember, the second you’re inside that door...” he pointed to the barely illuminated door directly in front of them. “...you’re owned.”

Gary swallowed, shivering a little at the husky growl Howard’s voice had become. It was a combination of that and what he actually said that galvanised him into getting out of the car then and there. Get it over with.

He slid out of his seat and shuffled towards the building, pausing underneath the battered canopy and looking back towards Howard. His band mate peered out at him, face illuminated by the lamp post they’d parked beside. He smiled mischievously - and knowingly - back at Gary, before flashing a quick thumbs up and starting the car. Gary watched him pull away before turning back to face the door.

For fuck’s sake. Hate you, Howard.

Then he raised a hand, reminding himself of his instructions, and tried the handle gingerly. Finding the door unlocked, he took an apprehensive breath and stepped inside, clicking the door shut behind him.

  


Howard drove along, grinning like an imbecile to himself. He always had the best ideas. Always. Gary was bound to be all negative at first, pessimist that he was. But he’d come round, for definite. Give him about half an hour, he’d be lapping it all up with submissive gusto. Yep, he’d bet on it. After all, he’d know.

So by the time he returned in an hour, Gary would be bowing before him in thanks, hands and knees and claiming himself not worthy to be... well, maybe not that far, but he’d definitely be pleasantly surprised. And, conveniently, Howard had also not told the dominatrix the identity of the new client. More fun that way, he reasoned. Right now, he guessed, Gary would be worrying about the whole ‘dominatrix’ thing, and the fact he’d said he wanted to get laid, not laid into. But the dominatrix tag wasn’t entirely accurate. 

Come to think of it, Howard had never actually asked Mark what he considered himself to be. Too busy screaming and begging for more, or harder, or mercy, or something. Giggling a little at the thought and the positively delicious memory, Howard pulled into a service station and bought a few snacks before retreating back to the car in the quiet car park. Slotting in his new mix tape, he reclined in his seat, cracked open a can, and sang along at the top of his lungs.

Gary’s gonna love me.

  


Mark was in the bathroom when he heard the door click shut, and a nervous throat clear. Frowning, he glanced at his phone. Dammit, he’s early...

Hurriedly, he pulled up the remainder of his fishnet stocking and snapped it to his suspenders (he’d shaved his legs earlier that day in preparation), pushing down and smoothing out the tiny black PVC miniskirt around his waist. Well, the guy’s just gonna have to wait. I am not going out there if I’m not perfect.

He wobbled on one foot as he pulled on a wickedly pointed leather boot, checking himself in the mirror. Which wasn’t easy in a breath shunning corset. But he was fucked if he wasn’t going out there in this gorgeous shiny, black, red lace trimmed thing. Bet Howard would like a private viewing, he thought evilly. Back to tonight.

Leaning close to the mirror after pulling on the other boot, Mark picked up his favourite lipstick, a sultry deep shade of red, applying it expertly with two quick strokes. He pressed his lips together as he picked up the icing on the cake that was his outfit - a wig. Long blonde tresses fell upon his shoulders as he crowned himself carefully, not a hair out of place. He smiled to himself at the thought that his client hadn’t called out for his dominatrix yet. Howard had instructed him well. He adjusted his corset a little, which turned him into a very convincing woman. Not that it was too hard. Finally, he pulled his three-quarter length gloves taut - absolute fuckers to put on, by the way - and stepped towards the bathroom door. He opened it a crack, peering through to see where his client was standing, so he could get the fullest impact out of his entrance.

Mark choked on his breath and shrank back into the bathroom, shutting the door again as quietly as possible and pinning himself to the wall.

GARY?!

Howard sent me fucking GARY?! Oh my God I am going to fucking kill him. I’m going to bend him in two until he chokes on his own cock, I’m gonna...

Mark seethed in his thoughts for a few more moments, then simmered down. Okay, rationality. Gary can’t know it’s me, otherwise he wouldn’t have come here. And he’s _straight_ , for fuck’s sake. Howard must’ve neglected to tell him. So. Can’t freak Gary out. Can’t let him know it’s me.

Digging into his little backpack, he pulled out a thick piece of black lace, one he usually used for a restraint. Mildly put out that he wouldn’t get to show off his favourite lipstick, he wrapped it around his face and tied it at the back, leaving only his heavily made-up eyes showing. Pausing to take a breath and remind himself not to get too distracted with the fact that he’s about to dominate his best friend of nearly twenty years, who has no idea it’s him under all that PVC and leather, Mark tugged nervously at his skirt one more time, hooking his weapon of choice over his wrist, and turned the door handle.

  


Gary was looking at the window. More specifically the sliver of darkness between the almost-drawn curtains, and was torn between drawing them fully for peace of mind and total privacy, or leaving them as they were in fear of being reprimanded for doing something without instruction. He heard the bathroom door swing open, and froze, mind abruptly shutting down for a few heart-stopping moments. Then a firm but quiet voice reached his ears.

“Knees.”

His mind stumbled to react, mental voices contradicting one another. Knees? What about my knees? Her knees?

A scant few seconds of panic passed, then he flinched violently at the sharp *CRACK* right behind him, followed by the voice again, suddenly tight with anger.

“Knees, boy. Get _on_  them now.”

Gary practically threw himself down, suddenly quite terrified. “Y-yes, Mistress!”

A gaping silence followed, before he heard slow footsteps on the rough carpet, approaching him. He held his breath and kept as still as possible, eyes front. And suddenly he found himself staring at a very tight, very short PVC miniskirt. Before his eyes could roam further, he received a sharp slap to the forehead.

“Eyes down.” Stifling a yelp of part-surprise, part-fear, Gary dropped his head, eyes finding and gluing to the pointed leather boots of his Mistress.

“Jacket and shirt. Off.”

As Gary hurried to obey, a dissenting voice in the back of his head said that if all that was going to happen was orders getting barked at him in such a militant manner, well... this was going to be a lot less sexy than he thought. Letting his jacket and t-shirt fall to the floor around him, he heard the squeak of shiny material and felt something fabric rest under his chin and push up, forcing him to look up. He cringed slightly and complied. His gaze was met by two utterly fucking captivating blue eyes, and suddenly the sexy was back. He opened his mouth to compliment them. ‘Mistress’ eyes are beautiful,’ or something. But, on remembering his rules, he closed it again.

The sexy was most definitely back.

  


Mark inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, being very careful not to exhibit it outwardly. Gary hadn’t recognised him! The eyes were usually a dead giveaway. Perhaps Gary was too petrified to let his usually sharp mind do the maths. This was good.

He held Gary’s gaze for a while longer, the end of his riding crop pressing under the singer’s chin, until he was sure he was getting uncomfortable. Then he straightened up and spoke, voice smooth.

“Bend forward and place your palms on the floor.”

Barely half a seconds pause, and Gary obeyed. Damn, he was a good little pet. All scared and intimidated and totally compliant... but not like the others. The few others that Mark had, uh, ‘serviced’ - and, assuredly, it was only a few - weren’t quite like this. The others had known their positions well whilst Gary seemingly didn’t. Apparently he hadn’t been in this position before. It wasn’t to say he was insubordinate or anything, he just... in this environment, for once, he was pretty dumb. And submissive.

And that was, well... hot.

Smiling safely under his black lace veil, his eyes settled on Gary’s toned, pale back as he walked around to his side. He trailed the tip of his riding crop all the way up the ridges of his spine as he spoke, making him shiver lightly.

“So…who are you?”

“Gary... Mistress.”

CRACK!

“AHHH!” Gary’s back snapped into an arc as Mark brought the crop down hard on the small of it, and let out a pained, outraged cry. Mark’s Mistress persona rushed back to the surface.

“Wrong answer, boy.” he said, voice stern but still worryingly calm. “You’re nameless to me, and continue like this and you’ll become worthless.” he paused, seeing Gary bite his lip against a hiss of pain. Then he raised a foot, resting it on Gary’s back and pushed down, making him lie down like a dog. He tapped the back of Gary’s head. “Head to the floor.”

  


Gary pressed his head to the carpet, even more uneasy now he couldn’t see anything, his back still smarting. His Mistress’ voice came again.

“What are you?”

After a brief panic, Gary replied with what he hoped to God to be the right answer. “I-I’m... I’m yours, Mistress.”

He cringed a little, waiting. Nothing happened. Instead he heard footsteps slowly begin to circle around him, feeling eyes burning into every inch of him. The steps stopped directly in front of him. He jumped a little on feeling breath brush his ear suddenly.

“Good boy.” the Mistress whispered. “You may stand.”

I did good! Alright!

Gary sat up, and despite the fact his heart was still pounding, he felt like he was starting to get the hang of all this. Remembering to keep his eyes to the ground, he stood up.

“What do you say?” the Mistress’ voice came, a touch of amusement in the tone. Gary flushed, realising.

“Thank you!” he blurted out. “Thank you, Mistress!”

A soft chuckle reached his ears, and Gary began to think that maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

CRACK!

FUCK!!

The crop was lashed across his chest, missing his face by a few inches. He did his best not to react, but... holy shit that hurt. He tensed up and shut his eyes tight, swallowing back any curses that would no doubt get him into trouble. Through his mental tirade, he heard his Mistress speak patiently.

“A courteous pet is a pet who keeps his ass intact.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Gary cracked open his eyes to see pink welts raising across his chest. “Thank you for educating me, Mistress.”

“I hope that isn’t sass I hear...”

Gary froze. “No, Mistress!” he cried, desperation in his voice. Oh my God I’m gonna get-

“Look at me, boy.”

Gary slowly rose his eyes, travelling up his Mistress’ form, one hand on hip, the other holding that riding crop over a shoulder. Despite the fact he was scared for his health and well-being...

Damn. Uh, fuck. Fucking... wow that is hot. _Damn_. He felt a pang of lust unfurl in his stomach as his eyes reached his Mistress’. Under the obscuring lace, he could see an amused smile curling the dark red lips.

  


Mark saw the hungry look faintly appear in Gary’s eyes as he looked at him, and he smiled. It never failed to make Mark feel like preening when people looked at him like that. Even more so now it was Gary. It was odd - he’d never really looked at his best friend as... well, as a sexual guy. Just best friend, guy who sings, guy who loves music. Not 'God I wanna molest you'. Maybe it was this outfit. Maybe he really was a slut, as Howard had affectionately accused him of being so many times. But whatever.

Gary, you are getting laid tonight.

He pulled out of his thoughts and began taking slinky steps towards Gary, placing his free hand on his bare chest and pushing him backwards as he did so. Dropping his persona momentarily, he whispered soothing words.

“Relax - if you give it a chance, you’ll enjoy it.”

He saw Gary frown a little in confusion, and took it as a cue to maybe shut the fuck up and maybe _not_ give himself away so fucking easily. He pushed Gary a little harder, and he fell back into the wall.

“Raise your hands above your head.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Gary replied, obeying instantly.

Mark turned away, walking with the same slink and giving his butt a little more wiggle than was necessary, well aware of Gary’s naughty eyes all over him. He reached the bathroom door and disappeared from view. He re-emerged with a thick strip of satin and a pair of black furred handcuffs, and approached Gary again, who was now staring at him curiously. Mark was about to reprimand him, when he seemed to remember himself, eyes shooting to the floor suddenly. Mark nodded in approval, reaching for Gary’s raised hands, looping the cuffs through the wall light fitting above his head and clapping them over his wrists.

Lucky the thing isn’t turned on, else Gary could have second degree burns by the time I’m done with him.

Smirking darkly at the thought, Mark took the satin strip and wrapped it around his eyes, tying it tight at the back of his head. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, making sure Gary could see nothing, before reaching up and untying his own lace veil, casting it aside. He ducked into the bathroom again, this time emerging with a small bucket of ice. Depositing it down beside his pet, he shook his crop from his wrist to his hand, gripping it and stepping back.

  


Gary did quite like the mystery of the blindfold, he decided. And being restrained was also kind of thrilling. Instead of just standing there like an idiot, he attempted to entice his Mistress by arching languidly, head pressing against the wall behind him. A sudden thought popped into his head as he thought about that incredible outfit.

Wait a second... that crop...

Isn’t that Howard’s?

CRACK!

He was given no time to think further on this as he felt - and heard - the crop lash across his chest again.

“Ah!” He arched further, this time mostly in pain.

Mostly.

His Mistress’ voice reached his ears. “Tell me what you like about my body, pet.”

CRACK!

“Ahh! I... God... I... your eyes...”

“Good. What else?”

CRACK!

“Fuck! Legs! Your legs... Mistress!”

“Mmhmm. And?”

CRACK!

“Uhh! Y-your ass!” Gary blurted, unable to hold it back. Well, it was true. He sagged a little. “Oh, God, your ass...”

There was a pause before his Mistress spoke again.

“Really? Very nice.” Then the voice dropped to a hiss. “Talk dirty to me.”

Gary took a moment to regain his breath, very fucking turned on by that last sentence.

“Fuck... Mistress, your ass, I...it’s so tight and - nngh - I want you to ride me, I need you to... I need to feel you... nn...” Gary squirmed against his restraints as he spoke, sweat starting to form on his forehead and breath puffing from his parted lips. “Inside you...” he whined.

  


Mark stared at Gary, stunned. Holy... he is desperate...

And watching him writhe like that... fuck.

He gritted his teeth, self-restraint having to kick in earlier than expected, and drew back the crop, bringing it down across Gary’s chest harder than before. He shivered at the delicious reaction it got - the yelped moan, more writhing and shuddering, and - yes, there they were - the speckles of blood that began oozing from two crossing welts across Gary’s ribs. Mark gazed at them hungrily.

His normal persona vanished completely. He raised the crop again and cracked it across Gary’s chest as hard as he could. Gary damn near screamed.

Mark’s eyes glittered.

  


Sharp prickles of pain danced all over Gary’s chest, making him shudder. It stung more. His mind was spreading, separating, lust crawling through his body, under his skin, clawing at the pit of his stomach. At first, he’d been uncertain about the riding crop, the dominatrix in general, but... the pain tipped into pleasure with the slightest push, mingling together beautifully.

He pressed back hard against the wall, head lolling to one side, trying to form thoughts but failing miserably.

CRACK!

“Ohhhh...” he moaned, long and low, feeling the sweat seeping down his chest. It was all he could do to stop his knees from buckling beneath him.

His Mistress’ voice reached his ears, more barbed and threatening than before. “You want to fuck me, is that right?”

“Yesss! God, yes, please, Mistress. Please, Mistress... yes...” Gary panted. 

CRACK!

“You want to be deep inside me...” His Mistress murmured breathily. “You want to feel me tighten around you, hot and wet, just for you...”

“Please!” Gary whined, squirming still, erection now throbbing in his pants.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!!

Three swift, successive lashes across his chest, each more vicious than the last, and Gary was almost sobbing in frustration and pain. His Mistress spoke again, hissing in sudden rage.

“You don’t deserve me. You are not worthy of me, boy.”

“I know, I know, I know...” Gary agreed, repeatedly, as if driven insane with lust. “I’m not, I’m not worthy of you, I‘m not worthy to take you, but please, please Mistress, please! I... let me beg on my hands and knees... I need you...” he finished in a whimper.

There was a gaping, heart-stopping silence for a few long moments. All Gary could hear was his own hoarse panting.

  


Mark could hold himself back no longer. Gary’s frantic begging was making him harden with need himself. So, he paused for a few moments, and when it looked as though his pet was about to start pleading again, Mark stepped forward and crushed his lips against Gary’s. Roughly taking hold of a fistful of his blond hair, holding him still, Mark forced his lips apart, tongue plunging in and gaining instant dominance. It was a brutal kiss, one that made Gary’s legs almost give way.

Mark kissed him like he was trying to swallow the back of his head. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, Mark broke away, leaving Gary to gasp for breath and regain his footing. As the older man reeled, Mark took a breath himself, before dipping his hand into the bucket of ice, picking out a cube and pressing it against Gary’s chest. He gasped at the sudden freezing sensation, one that dramatically eased the raw burning of the bleeding welts criss-crossing all over him. Mark eased the one cube across Gary’s chest, following the raised, pink marks one by one until the cube had melted away. He remained silent, drinking in his pet’s reaction, watching his back arch languidly and hearing the panted moans escape from his lips. Also, when breath allowed him, Gary was thanking his Mistress profusely for soothing his wounds. Mark hushed him, then said in the most level, smooth voice.

“You are not worthy, pet. You are not good enough for me to give you such a prize. But I’m also not going to let you leave here without having had the greatest sex of your pathetic life.” he moved closer, false breasts pressing up against Gary’s sore chest, breath ghosting over his ear. “Which is why I am going to fuck you.”

Before Gary could fully comprehend what had just been said to him, he felt two more ice cubes press and drag over his chest, circling his nipples and trailing cold, swirling little patterns in their wake. He moaned again, shivering slightly. Mark growled inwardly.

God, I just wanna bend you over the bed and fuck you into next year...

Fighting against this animal instinct, Mark discarded one of the ice cubes, slipping the other into his mouth and moving in to claim Gary’s lips again. Gary whined as the cube was pushed into his mouth. His enforced blindness just made the sensation more intense, tongues sliding and pushing the cube between each other, numbing, caressing, lubricating. The kiss lasted, soft moans rising from both parties, until there was nothing left of the ice - and longer still. It seemed as though Gary’s Mistress had forgotten herself.

Mark pressed himself against his pet, gloved hands raising and sliding down Gary’s raised arms as he continued to kiss him. Angling his leg so his thigh rubbed insistently against Gary’s groin. Breaking away to lick at his bottom lip and murmur breathily, “You like that?”

Gary pressed back, straining against his bonds, blindly dipping his head to search for his Mistress’ lips. He gave no reply, only whining needily again. A sudden void sucked the intensity from the atmosphere as his Mistress stepped back. Desperation ran away with Gary’s mind.

“Want you... now...” he pleaded, frustrated anger creeping into his voice.

A second of silence passed before SMACK! Gary damn near shrieked in pain and surprise as a hand delivered a vicious slap to his face, making his ears ring. He staggered to the side, face throbbing, and was given no time to apologise or even curse, as the same hand clamped tightly around his face, holding him still. The strength of the grip was incredible for a woman, and the threatening hiss in that previously velvet voice was terrifying.

“How dare you!” The free hand dragged curled fingers down Gary’s chest, prising open the stinging welts, making him yelp, panicked. “'I want’ doesn’t get, don’t you know anything?! You are beneath me, what you want means nothing to me. You will get what I give you, clear, pet?” The last word was spat with as much contempt as could be mustered. Gary reeled in utter panic, freezing in his Mistress’ grip.

“Yes! Yes! Crystal clear, Mistress, oh my God, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry!” he blurted hoarsely. His apologies dissolved into a tearful moan as he felt more welts splitting open under his tormentor's claws. “Please, please, do what you want with me, Mistress... please...”

The sudden rage that had consumed Mark vanished at those few words.

Do what you want with me.

He’d been planning to do that anyway, but actually hearing those words spill from Gary’s mouth was... God. Mark’s eyes narrowed, lust clutching at the pit of his stomach, and he let go of Gary’s face.

“Back against the wall, boy.” he murmured. “And if you move an inch, this is going to be the longest night of your life - not in a good way.”

Gary instantly pinned himself back, getting as much of himself pressed hard against the wall, whimpering his compliance. He winced inwardly, knowing he was in for more of a thrashing and not entirely sure if he could take the agony much longer. His breath emerged in shuddering pants as he waited. What he received, though, was far from what he expected.

Mark bent down, dragging his tongue along the swirling streaks of red over Gary’s chest, licking up every drop of water, pausing to nibble and suck lightly at either nipple. His hands descended to tug at the fly of Gary’s trousers.

And Gary himself was choking back innumerable, thick moans, toes curling and desperately trying to keep still and not arch into the touch of that mouth. Beads of sweat began to dampen his forehead as he felt hands swiftly free him of his trousers and boxers. This was going to be a lot fucking harder than he thought.

Mark dropped to his knees, tongue tracing over the happy trail before him, before he moved back and took in the sight of Gary’s hardened cock in front of his face. He felt heat throb through him just looking at it. His eyes raised to Gary’s obscured eyes before he raised a gloved hand and wrapped it around the base.

“Remember...” he warned, unable to keep the slight tremble from his voice. “Not one false move.”

Then he flicked out his tongue, teasing at the moistened slit, before dropping his lips and suckling at the head. He heard Gary splutter and cry out, if anything pressing back harder against the wall in a remarkable show of self-restraint. Thumb rubbing at the base, Mark swirled his tongue around the head, sweeping it along the underside and moaning as he slowly swallowed his pet down.

Gary, inwardly, was writhing like an octopus on deck. He could only stand there in some self-enforced rigor mortis as his erection was enveloped by this wet, hot, divine mouth. He could only imagine the sight of the blonde, tousled head bobbing up and down at his waist, red lips wrapped firmly around his cock. He could only whimper, whine and yelp and not move a fucking muscle.

It was a scant few minutes before Mark began wondering, for the first time ever with a client, how long he could last. Gary didn’t need to move and buck up into his mouth - just the sounds he was making was enough to wash his self control away. And, from the way it now sounded that Gary was damn near sobbing in desperation, the feeling was mutual.

Gary is straight. And I am going to fuck him.

Mark shivered at the thought, hungrily taking the rest of Gary into his mouth and eliciting another yelp followed by a husky moan.

“F-fuck... God...” Gary gasped, feeling his toes slowly cramp from curling so damn hard. He was so close to just shooting his load then and there, but the perversely intriguing promise of being fucked was just enough to hang on to his self-control by the smallest of threads.

Suddenly, there was a smacking noise as his Mistress pulled away. Gary sagged, heart pounding, gasping for breath. After a few seconds of silence, he heard his Mistress’ voice, now a slightly unsteady murmur. 

“Turn around and spread your legs.” Gary obeyed, heart suddenly thundering.

Is this it? Is she going to...

He froze as he felt a fingertip trace down his back, the sensation disappearing before-

“AHH!” he cried, head thrown back as the finger was suddenly pushed into him.

What the fuck?! Oh... my God...

Before Gary knew it, he was rocking back wantonly onto two lubed fingers as they invaded him. It didn’t matter that he was standing there naked, blindfolded and handcuffed to a light fitting. It didn’t matter that the person doing this to him was some kind of dominatrix prostitute he’d never met before. All that mattered was that there was something deep inside him, something he was barely even aware was there, something his Mistress had found and was now rubbing two - wait - ah - three fingertips over it. Something that felt like Christmases and birthdays and hotel wreckings and riots and...

Gary let his forehead rest against the wall, feeling his whole body throb as he arched his back and clenched around the fingers sending him to heaven. As his coherent mind utterly disintegrated, Gary wasn’t even aware that his Mistress had unlocked his cuffs until his aching arms were eased down, fingers withdrawing from him. He lay his hands against the wall, supporting his weak body, before light flooded his vision as the blindfold was removed. His wrist was grasped and he was pulled away, dragged stumbling towards the bed and practically thrown onto it, feet resting on the floor.

Mark stood over his pet, looking down at him, his own breath now coming in shallow pants. “I said I was going to fuck you.” he asserted. “And that is what I am going to do, regardless of how you react to what I do next, right... Gary?”

Gary’s heavy-lidded eyes came to almost focus on him, vague confusion in them. Mark steeled himself.

Do it, just do it.

You want him to know it’s you now, don‘t you? Well there’s only one way to do that.

Mark swallowed, tilting his head defiantly up, and took hold of his wig, pulling it off to reveal the sweat slicked, messy shock of hair beneath. He stood there, boots, fishnets, suspenders, miniskirt, corset, fake boobs, gloves, black shirt, painted eyes, ruined lipstick and wigless, in all his glory.

The wig dropped to the floor.

Gary’s eyes cleared a little, widening. He looked like he was trying to mouth Mark’s name, but a sex addled mind doesn’t make good for eloquence. If breathing was hard before, it was almost fucking impossible now.

Mark took hold of Gary’s legs and dragged him until his ass sat at the edge of the bed, then pushed them apart. He stepped closer, tugged up his miniskirt and coated himself with the remainder of the lubricant. He then pulled Gary’s ass up towards him and impaled him, eliciting an unearthly shriek from the helpless pet.

Neither of them lasted long after that.

Mark’s hips bucked sharply, harshly, falling into a desperately fast rhythm. Burying himself deep in Gary’s virginally tight ass, gloved hands clawing at his sides, shuddering moans rolling from his throat and passing red smudged lips. Gary’s head pressed back hard into the bed beneath him, mouth open wide in a silent cry, vision dissipating and consciousness floating to the ceiling. Utterly overcome by the entirely new sensation of a hard cock driving into his ass and stimulating a spot inside him like he never thought possible. The entirely new sensation of being fucked.

Of being fucked by Mark.

And hearing his band mate - his Mistress - shrieking at the top of his lungs as he slammed home one more time, orgasm exploding through the pit of his stomach, spilling himself deep inside his pet.

Gary came hard. He barely found the breath to scream.

  


After a few minutes of nothing but laboured breath and shimmering consciousness, Gary suddenly felt movement, before something wet pressed against his stomach. He cracked open his eyes to see his Mistress dragging his tongue over his torso, eagerly lapping up the spatters of come decorating him. Gary groaned softly at such a mind-blowing sight.

Then his Mistress was above him, on hands and knees, looking down at him though heavy-lidded eyes. A sheen of sweat glinted on his face. He bent down and nipped at Gary’s throat, murmuring against his damp skin.

“Time’s up, pet. Clean yourself up - your ride’s waiting.”

He sloped off his pet’s body. Gary raised his head to watch his Mistress walk away, towards the bathroom, hips swinging with that same slink, discarded wig in hand. The door closed behind him.

After a moment or two, Gary sat up, feeling his chest throb dully.

“Wow.” he breathed. Then he reached for the tissues sat on the bedside table and set about making himself somewhat presentable.

  


Howard drummed his fingers at a manic speed on the steering wheel, bobbing his head to some song in his mind. He looked up on hearing the door in front of the car open. His eyes lit up and he grinned on seeing an exhausted, mildly dishevelled looking Gary close the door behind him.

“So?” Howard asked innocently.

Gary strolled up to the car, opening the door and flopping into his seat. Howard watched him expectantly as he let his head drop to the headrest behind him, eyes hazy as they looked sideways at the older man.

“I am going to fucking murder you.” he muttered. Then he smirked.

Howard just laughed.


End file.
